Afghan President Hamid Karzai and US Secretary of State Hillary Clinton talk while walking in a private Georgetown garden in Washington, DC, May 2010. Photograph: Reuters/Cliff Owen

The Afghan Women's Writing Project began in May 2009 with the goal of nurturing the often-silenced voices of Afghan women. This article is a call to the US government from one of the first writers to join the project.

My name cannot be shared here. I am an Afghan woman of many struggles, now in hiding in my own homeland. I finally had an opportunity to go to a university in the United States in January and continue my education. But at the US Embassy in Kabul, my visa was rejected after the interviewer asked me, "Do you have the intention to come back to Afghanistan?" When I said no, she told me, "I am sorry; it is against the law. We can't give you any visa."

Secretary Clinton, I am against the law in my country, too. I am against the culture and customs of my country, against the respect of the elders, against those Afghan males who proudly deny the freedom of others. I refused to marry my 40-year-old uneducated cousin who wanted to pay money to my family and buy me like a piece of cloth. My uncle, the father of that cousin, has threatened my life because I defied him. I have held onto my courage to stand up against them, with the support of American friends who helped me buy freedom and then helped me get a scholarship and find a host family in the United States.

Of course, I want to return to my country, my home, and help other women like me. I want to write about the real lives of Afghan women who have suffered more than me and who have not been heard. I want to live in every province of our country, and to discover how our women can make a change in their lives. I also know we need educated women in Afghanistan. I want to be an independent woman and work for Afghanistan and our generation. I want to do this, but I also want to be safe. If I cannot do this, then I will feel I have finally failed.

I know I am not the only Afghan woman who suffers from this kind of situation, and the United States can't help every Afghan woman gain her education. On the other hand, I know that only with a storm of knowledge and wisdom can we escape from violence. Only after we bring a change in our lives, can we save the lives of others.

I am tired and can't explain the entire story of this bare life of mine, but I did want to share these latest efforts with you. I don't write to you only because you are the secretary of state of the United States of America. I write to you because you are a woman. As a woman, what do you advise me? And your president is the father of two daughters. If I were his daughter, what would be his advice for me? Should I continue to fight?

Sometimes, I ask myself, why? Why do I want so much to study? Why can't I accept what is considered enough in our country? Why can't I be a good mother, serve my family, make a happy home? Dad wanted me to be a doctor. He said in this way, I could help other women, because in most of the Afghan provinces, women are not allowed to visit a male doctor. I tried, but I couldn't become a doctor. Though I failed at that, I found I could write. And then I understood I could heal with my writings.

Inside my heart, there is a war, and it is part of the same war that your country began fighting here after 11 September 2001. Although my life has been as a thunderstorm without end, I want my freedom, and I trust my courage and strength. With hopeful hands, I write; with worried legs, I walk to try to find a new tomorrow and, with my arms, to dig a grave to bury the violence against the women of my country.

I love the people of your country, but I don't think enough has been done by your government to secure freedom for Afghan women. As long as stories of cruelty against Afghan women remain in newspaper headlines, we can't stop. We can't be satisfied.

As I try to find a new direction for myself and other Afghan women, I hope for counsel from you.